by M J Porter
Leofric was surprised by Harthacnut’s reticence, but reasoned it was because Harthacnut didn’t wish to leave his cousin in England when he died. Perhaps, after all, Harthacnut was capable of loving someone.
Harthacnut seemed to scrutinise Leofric just as carefully as Leofric observed him. Yet they never spoke of, or alluded to their secret conversation.
Lady Godgifu’s intervention in Coventry had cost Leofric dearly, but to the casual observer, it was the king who’d lost money, not Leofric. Leofric would rather more people had known the truth but understood that it would never happen. The king had a legitimate reason to complain. Or so Harthacnut made out.
And in the earldom of Bamburgh Leofric knew there were rumblings of discontent. Earl Siward was not dealing with the rebels with any understanding.
The border with the Scots was quiet, for now, that with the Welsh, uneasy. Leofric suspected an eruption would occur on the death of Earl Hrani. News from Hereford was that the old Danish earl was grievously ill. Leofric had his household warriors on high alert in the borderlands, with Olaf ready and able to deal with anything untoward.
Leofric recognised the sensation of waiting. Something was going to happen, and soon, but what it was couldn’t be discerned, not yet. So Leofric waited, as did Harthacnut, who seemed to have abandoned any thoughts he might have had about attacking the kingdom of the Scots. Harthacnut had contented himself with claiming Bamburgh, even if it had only been done in his name, and not by him.
Leofric was thankful there was no war, but also surprised. England’s Viking King had become far removed from anything that had been expected before his coronation.
The king hadn’t married. Leofric took it as an admission that he wasn’t capable of fathering a child, and felt pity for him. Ælfgar was Leofric’s only son, and while he would have liked more children, at least he had Ælfgar. Leofric couldn’t imagine what it must be like to know that death was stalking you, and that your legacy was only what you’d accomplished in life.
In the strange vacuum, Leofric determined to forge a friendship with Lord Edward. Leofric’s resolve to find and assist Lord Alfred helped. Earl Godwine was decidedly out of favour with both Lord Edward and Harthacnut. Yet, the possibility that he was in contact with Lady Emma niggled at Leofric.
He was reminded of that conversation Earl Godwine and Lady Emma had shared before she’d been forced to leave England on King Harald’s orders. Lady Emma had denied any collusion, but Leofric felt he was right to be suspicious of them both.
Lord Godwine’s sons were busy when the witan met, trying to make allies with the thegns and king’s thegns. Leofric knew he and his son could never compete with the might of the House of Godwine. Lord Godwine’s sons were mere pups, but they were already showing some skill in the political arena. He wasn’t surprised. Lord Godwine had survived all these years through a lack of skill.
And Ælfgar was busy himself. While none of Earl Godwine’s children had yet married, Ælfgar was the father of four children, three of them boys, and the one daughter, Ealdgyth. In time Ælfgar would have the family to support him that he currently lacked. Leofric could only hope that it wasn’t too little, too late. How different, he thought, might it have been if he’d been blessed with as many children as his father had been.
“My Lord Edward,” the king had called a witan in early May, and Leofric had made an effort to seek out the king’s half-brother. “Lord Ralph.” Leofric bowed to the two men. Neither had any actual power at Harthacnut’s court, but one day Leofric appreciated that they would, and had determined to call Ralph a lord regardless of the fact he was landless other than the estates he managed for his mother, Countess Godgifu.
News from Countess Godgifu was rarely heard, and yet Ralph still remained in England. Leofric assumed that meant that Lord Edward was in contact with his sister.
“Lord Leofric, is your son here?” Lord Edward’s voice was filled with warmth, when they greeted each other.
“No, not this time. Another son keeps him busy in Oxford.” Lord Edward smiled at the news. That was one thing Leofric had noticed, Lord Edward never stinted others their good fortunes.
“He’s certainly keen to have many children. Perhaps, I’ll have my own soon.” Leofric nodded, a smile on his lips to hear the words. While Harthacnut had not married, Lord Edward, if he became king, would need a wife. Who that would be was not easy to determine.
No doubt, it would be best for Lord Edward to have a wife from across the Narrow Sea, but if he hadn’t managed to find himself a wife yet, Leofric doubted it would happen anytime soon. It wasn’t as if Lord Edward’s prospects had radically altered. But in the future, it was possible they would.
“Lady Godgifu does not take kindly to being a grandmother.” Leofric thought to direct his mind elsewhere.
Lord Edward chuckled at the admission.
“My mother is the same.”
Leofric hoped he detected a thaw in the relationship between the mother and the son, but he’d determined not to interfere. Lady Emma would need to win her son’s love if that was possible. Still, the fact that Lord Edward spoke of his mother was worthy of note. It didn’t happen often.
Only then Lord Edward changed tact.
“I’ve heard rumours from people who knew my father of the relationship yours shared with him. I’ve some memories of my time in England before I was exiled, but I don’t remember your father overly well.”
“My father was a loyal ealdorman to your father. They were difficult times.” Leofric wished Lord Edward had decided not to broker the conversation at the witan. He tried not to sound defensive when he spoke, but feared a complaint would tumble from Lord Edward’s mouth. And all when they’d been getting along so well.
“I imagine they were. I wish I remembered more of my father and half-brothers.” Lord Edward’s voice was wistful. Leofric grunted, surprised by the admission. He allowed his defensive attitude to soften.
“It wasn’t all smiles and laughter. I was a hostage, alongside your brother, Edmund, in Oxford, over thirty years ago. I got to know him well during the time that we were under Lord Thorkell’s protection, as he became.”
“I was little more than a child, and Edmund helped me. He was a young man then. He wanted to be fighting the Raiders, not being used as hostage while King Æthelred and Thorkell bargained over sums of money. I was in awe of him, and his warrior prowess. And while we were together, he told me of the time my father rescued your grandmother. The Raiders tried to attack Dean, when he was no older than I was, at the time.”
Here Leofric paused, lost in the memories of that long ago time, trying to remember everything that Edmund had told him. With a pang he realised that his father had never shared the story with him. Was it the same now for Lord Edmund? Had people never shared such stories of his half-brothers with him? Perhaps the rift between King Æthelred’s two sets of children had made it impossible for Edward to know his brothers well. It was a pity.
“I remember now. They came upon your grandmother with all your half-brothers and sisters at Dean. Athelstan rode out with the men, but was captured, and the Raiders tried to bargain with your grandmother for money.”
“She was a formidable woman, even in the year before her death. She refused to give them what they wanted, and then, when they threatened to kill Athelstan, she told them to get on with it, for she had other grandsons. I don’t suppose the Raiders truly knew what to make of her.”
Leofric glanced at Lord Edward, surprised to find him enraptured by the old story. Surely he must know of his grandmother, Lady Elfrida? But it seemed he was ignorant of her as well.
“When they tried to hang Athelstan, the men from Dean launched an attack and young Edmund, without your grandmother’s permission, leapt over the side of the wall and straight to Athelstan’s assistance.”
Leofric heard the story in his mind as though Edmund spoke in his ear.
“Only then they couldn’t get back inside the fortress. So they stole
a horse from the Raiders and galloped off, to who knew where? They met my father in the forest. He relieved Dean, drove the Raiders away and reunited Athelstan and Edmund with your grandmother. That was when Ecgberht still lived, but after the death of their mother, if I remember correctly.”
Leofric stopped once more, trying to think of other stories to share with Lord Edward.
“My brother, Northman, was fond of Athelstan and Edmund. Although he was only a few years older than me, he knew them much better than I ever did. He fought with them, and against them, whereas I only ever shared a few conversations with them.”
A silence hung between them. Leofric sighed heavily. The past was a difficult place to visit. Memories of his older brother tinged them all with sadness, as did the memory of Edmund’s eventual death, only weeks after coming to an accord with Cnut.
How different it might all have been, had Athelstan and Edmund only lived longer. Perhaps then Lord Edward wouldn’t be the stranger he now was. Caught up in melancholy, Leofric continued.
“I think people remember the past differently to the way it really was. Your father was a man with few options, in the end, and with even fewer men to rely on.”
Lord Edward broke the silence that had fallen between them.
“I would not make my father’s mistakes. I wish to my own allies. I have Lord Ralph, and some few others, but it would be wise to have English allies as well.”
“And you would make me one of your allies, after all?” Leofric was replaying the second conversation he’d shared with Lord Edward. That had been nearly a year ago now.
“I should like to, but we need to know each other better. While I know you aided my brother and my father, and my mother, although I doubt she deserved it, you’ve never done anything for me, other than retrieve me from across the Narrow Sea, and anyone could have done that.”
Leofric canted his head to one side, observing how much Lord Edward had changed since returning to England. Yes, he was still reserved and could be counted on to conduct conversations such as this whenever he felt like it, but he also had an inner confidence that Leofric was pleased to see, even if it allowed Edward to question his loyalty.
“My Lord, my allegiances and my friendships are not just given for the sake of political ambition. I served your father when I was a young man, and I aided your brother because what happened to him was incredibly, indecently, maliciously wrong, and your mother. Well, I confess, I inherited your mother from my father.” Leofric shrugged as he made the admission. There was nothing he could do about Lady Emma, and there never had been. It was time that Lord Edward appreciated that Leofric would always feel compelled to support Lady Emma, no matter her transgressions.
“I too would like to build a friendship with you, but it must be based on something. While you say I’ve done nothing for you, I could repeat that complaint to yourself. I came to you, across the Narrow Sea, at my king’s bequest. Since your return we’ve rarely spoken and yet I know you move to make alliances and allegiances. I’m aware that Lord Ralph frequently speaks with the local nobility in Buckinghamshire. Yet today is the first we’ve spoken of such a thing between us.”
A flicker of something on Lord Edward’s face alerted Leofric to the fact he might have been too honest. But then Lord Edward nodded, licking his lips, tugging on his cloak that displayed the sigil of the House of Wessex, even if discretely.
“You make a valid argument, Lord Leofric. I see that what men say about you is true.”
“My Lord?” Leofric had no idea what Earl Godwine and Siward honestly thought of him, although he could imagine it wouldn’t be complimentary.
“You don’t know, then, what people say about your family?”
“No, My Lord. I could guess, but I’d sooner not know for sure. I imagine that many people see us as a powerful enemy to have. Certainly, those keen to seek vengeance on others are keen to become my allies in the hope that I’ll take action on their behalf. But I believe justice should always be done, and if there’s no merit to the claims, then I’ll not pursue them just to satisfy someone’s blood-lust.”
“No, Lord Leofric, I’m aware of that. But perhaps you’re right. What others see when they look at you, is not for you to know. I’ll not damage relationships with my knowledge. But you should understand that many would sooner have you as an ally than say, Earl Siward or Godwine. Others may deem your consistency as ineffectual, but I prefer to anticipate the reactions of men and women. With you, that’s often very easy. Sometimes you can also be contrary. That too is a rare talent. I would sooner have an ally such as you, than one I can both rely on to always act the same, and always ensure that they gain something from every interaction. Some men are ambitious, and some men are too ambitious. I know which I prefer.”
Lord Edward bowed then and moved away with no more discussion of an alliance. Leofric watched him go with the hint of a wry smirk on his lips.
Lord Edward didn’t quite as wholly lack in ability as Leofric had once feared. It would make the future intriguing. Perhaps. Provided all his potential didn’t waste away to nothing, as had happened to King Æthelred, in the end.
Some men couldn’t stand to listen to criticism, and yet others were blinded to their faults.
Leofric hoped that Lord Edward held that special spark that would make him fit to rule, even if he might never have expected to become the king of England.
Chapter 18
AD1042
Leofric
Leofric mingled with the other guests. He would sooner have been far from this summer feast. Being around so many people, all too drunk, was grating on his already frayed nerves.
Only that day, he’d been forced to speak in private with Harthacnut once more. Leofric hadn’t enjoyed the conversation.
The king had looked ill, his colour poor, and Leofric had known then that Harthacnut had suffered another bout of his illness.
Last year they’d made their positions toward each other clear. The year had dragged on, both seeming to skirt around the root of their quarrel.
Harthacnut did not like the fact that Leofric had known his father better than he had. Likewise, Leofric didn’t enjoy being forced to carry yet more secrets for his king, on top of the problems caused by Harthacnut’s active involvement in the murder of Earl Eadwulf. Leofric was still to find out who had been the prime mover in the decision to murder an earl under a safe-conduct. He didn’t want to believe the worse of either Lord Siward or his king, and yet he couldn’t help blaming them both, equally.
“My Lord,” Harthacnut had beckoned Leofric close, staying in his seat, rather than rising to greet him. Leofric would have taken it as an insult, had Harthacnut not looked too ill to be on his feet.
“My Lord King,” quickly Leofric had bowed and then seated himself where indicated, to the right hand side of the king. Leofric noted that he was entirely alone with the king. That knowledge had warned him that Harthacnut had more secrets to share with him.
“I would burden you again, as my half-brother and father did. I make no apology for it.”
Leofric had sighed heavily. Somehow he’d anticipated this day would come. It was simply a surprise that it had taken so long. Perhaps Harthacnut had finally come to terms with his illness.
“My Lord King, I’ll do my best, as I always have in the past, to complete the task you set me.”
Harthacnut had nodded, seemingly sure of receiving that answer.
“I know you will. Your reputation precedes you.”
“You told me, when last we spoke so intimately, of a conversation you shared with my father, in the months before his death.” Leofric had stilled, his eyes steady on Harthacnut, once more assessing the state of the king.
Harthacnut had come to England as a warrior. He’d tried to rule with a warrior’s mind, and yet he was much weaker now. The hard flesh of his muscles had turned soft, perhaps only noticeable to someone anticipating such a change. His eyes, always so hard and steely, were warier now. How, Leof
ric considered, did such a young man prepare for a death that had been seemingly preordained?
When men fought battles, they carried with them the knowledge that it could mean their death, but no one ever truly knew. But now Harthacnut seemed to. Leofric felt a flicker of pity for the boy, for that was all he was, and a boy who should have had his entire life in front of him.
“Yes, My Lord King. Your father begged me to smooth the succession problems for you and your half-brother, as I told you.” If this was to be an argument, Leofric had found he had no enthusiasm for it, not anymore.
“Then I would ask you to do the same for me, with my other half-brother. Lord Edward is a man who’ll need a great deal of support, but more importantly, protection from the English earls. Well, from Earl Godwine in particular. That man has the ambition to be a king.” Harthacnut had spat the final sentence, his body seeming to thrum with hatred. Leofric hadn’t been surprised.
Lord Godwine had always been presented to Harthacnut as his father’s greatest ally. How wrong that had been, in the end.
The threat of Lord Godwine had been building for many years. Leofric had long seen it and understood it for what it was. King Cnut had given too much to Lord Godwine. It would be impossible to remove that influence from him until his death. And even then, Lord Godwine was grooming his sons to continue in his footsteps, despite the current threat that Lord Godwine would only be able to leave his possessions from before he first became earl to his family.
“My Lord King, Earl Godwine is a powerful man, with many sons and three daughters. It will be difficult to do anything to counter the threat he poses to your half-brother.”
“And yet someone must do it. And it can only be you. Earl Siward’s ambitions are firmly focused on the north.” There had been fury in Harthacnut’s voice, and Leofric had realised that Siward had not given his king everything he’d promised him. The revelation hadn’t come as a surprise.
“Lord Edward will rule as king when I’m gone because I’ve ensured my wishes are well known. He’ll rule as my father’s son.” Leofric had startled at the realisation that even now, Harthacnut couldn’t accept that his heir was the son of King Æthelred. Harthacnut had never even met King Æthelred, and yet the hatred was firmly embedded.